the Bell [Mass Market Paperback]

The theme of the book is the nature of human goodness, and the impossibility of human perfection. Murdoch was an Oxford Reader in Moral Philosophy at the time, and was well capable of producing a very dry account of this subject, but instead the book is a masterpiece of subtle comedy which gets its serious ideas across with great subtlety. The first two chapters, in particular, draw the reader into the life of the heroine with a piece of sustained artistry that is quite unparalleled, at least in my experience. It's a gorgeous piece of prose that I never tire of reading.

Dora, the heroine (and I use the term deliberately), is presented as a totally amoral being (and therefore, like the dog, without sin). She is incapable of deciding to "do the right thing", but also incapable of real wrong-doing. All the other characters are in some way struggling with their own moral turpitude, and in trying to intellectualize their struggle, accellerate their approaching doom. Dora meanwhile, guided only by her animal instincts, emerges as a Saint, cheered on at every stage by the reader (well, this reader at least). Furthermore, Dora's redemption occurs in spite of, rather than because of, the moral and intellectual strictures of Organised Religion. You cheer for Dora as she leaves the Chapel in disgust, just as you cheer for Austen's Elizabeth Bennet when she faces down Lady Catherine. It's that good!

The Bell of the title is a symbol of untrammelled female sexuality that resounds throughout the book. This theme is explored, ironically, in a plot which takes place around the grounds of a convent. There's a disturbing painting by Millais called "The Vale of Rest" that I think must have inspired Murdoch. The picture of nuns digging a grave is a wonderful image of Victorian male sexual terror (conceived, incidentally, by Millais on his honeymoon). In the backgound swings the bell. When moved, it must sound.

Apart from Dora, most of the other characters emerge from the events of the plot with their lives in ruins. Dora, in contrast, learns to value herself by finally detaching herself from the awful man she had married.

I'm very conscious of the fact that not all readers would share my interpretation of the book, and in all probability Murdoch didn't mean it that way. She was on record as saying that if she'd known how readers would feel about Dora's awful husband, she would have treated him more sympathetically. But the book is as it is, and as a description of the triumph of the Human Spirit over priests and pedants, it's just fine for me.

Incidentally, it was made into a very good television version by the BBC about 20 years ago. I hope they repeat it one day.

A sort of psychological detective novel, the story is told through the eyes a leader of a lay religious community who is haunted by secrets from his past and also from the perspective of two visitors: a carefree woman returning to her boorish husband who is studying at a nearby convent and an innocent youth hoping to be inspired by the community's spiritual atmosphere before he goes to Oxford. The plot revolves around a bell missing for centuries and the community's plans to replace it with a new one, but I will say nothing else that might give it away.

The first half of the book is a very British comedy of manners (and it is at times very funny), but then things get out of hand when the two visitors, both knowingly and unwittingly, set into motion a series of tragic events that shatter the faith and foundations of the group. Although I was constantly surprised by the book's twists and turns, when I finished the novel I felt that all the events were very nearly pre-ordained by the actions and ethics of its characters.

Murdoch's genius is her ability to pose many complicated questions and provide just enough for readers to decide for themselves. Are the visitors responsible for destroying the community's equanimity or were they simply the catalyst that exposed the hypocrisies and self-centeredness of the commune's members? Must a person transcend selfishness in order to influence others for the better? Does it take tragedy to bring out the best in people? Is it ever really possible to wall oneself away from the rest of the world?

It seems almost incidental in this day and age to acknowledge that the novel portrays two gay men in a sympathetic manner astonishing for a book published in 1958--yet another aspect that displays the power and forwardness of Murdoch's thinking.